


that edgy midnight aesthetic

by purplezizircon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I HAVE A FIVE PAGE ESSAY DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVE ONE PARAGRAPH DONE, M/M, Other, Trash tbh, i'm supposed to be doing homework rn, reader is gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplezizircon/pseuds/purplezizircon
Summary: The clock’s struck twelve on this cold, sleepless, city night. Between the bright neon lights and your robot boyfriend’s tight embrace on you, it’s a relaxing moment well worth living.Mettaton/(Gender-Neutral)Reader - SFWWords - 582The reader shares a calming moment with their metallic boyfriend.





	that edgy midnight aesthetic

**Author's Note:**

> named after my spotify playlist with my favorite chillhops songs in it lmao
> 
> what the fuck kinda name is “that edgy midnight aesthetic”
> 
> edit: HOOOOLY SHIT I ACCIDENTALLY REFERRED TO YOU TWO AS "BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND" AAA I'M SO SORRY! I'll change it for all those that don't identify as female. So sorry!!

The beats of the chill-hop coursed through your mind, via the cushioned MTT-brand headphones propped on your head. The occasional sound of a car driving past would blend in with the wordless melodies that put you to ease. It was nights like these you appreciated most, nights where you could truly unwind and relax. Nights where you could take a break from the burdens of modern life. The ticks of a clock mounted on your wall were faint, but loud enough to be heard if focused on. You glanced up, trying not to disturb the robot whose lap you were settled in so cozily. The clock’s struck twelve on this cold, sleepless night. Between the bright neon lights and your robot boyfriend’s tight embrace on you, it’s a relaxing moment well worth living.

You glanced at your phone, the brightness of the screen blinding you in the dim lighting of your apartment. It didn’t feel like midnight - time didn’t even feel like it existed at this particular moment. It felt as if you were stuck in a loop of eternal youth, an unwavering moment in which time never flowed. A reality in which nobody existed except you and Mettaton, a reality in which anything was free to do. Limits could be pushed, expectations could be broken...all of these senses often came at this time of night.

The coffee table placed in front of you was totally trashed. It was littered in leftovers, various makeup tools and nail polishes, and, naturally, various MTT-brand products of varying use. Everything from beauty supplies to his own damn branded sudoku books. What didn’t this bitch have? The carpet on which the coffee table was perched had seen better days, too. The white faux fur was covered in empty candy wrappers and snack boxes, and box of Pocky with some sticks still remaining was spilling onto the ground.

A hand ghosted over your ear, gently pulling strands of hair back behind your ear. A pressure lifted from your head as you felt Mettaton lift his head up, moving it to peck you on the cheek. A giggle escaped your lips, which in turn caused a chuckle to bubble up from the robot. He wrapped his metallic arms around you in a more secure state as you leaned back, relaxing even more into his touch. Once again his head returned to rest against the top of yours, as he raised a thumb to stroke your cheek ever so benignly.

There was nothing more you could want in this moment - what else more is there to want? The affection provided by your boyfriend converted a minute to an eternity. You were convinced there was nobody better. With Mettaton, you got both sides of life; you were able to live the flashy, overwhelmingly glamorous life of a celebrity as well as the quiet, collected moments spent at home under the labels of a couple. In moments like these, thats all you were. Mettaton wasn’t a celebrity; he wasn’t Mettaton. And you weren’t (Y/N). You were a loving couple, joined at the hip and whos love could never be torn. Your names weren’t important, aren’t important.

“I love you, darling.”

His soft voice rung throughout the room, overpowering the sound of the music. His at-home voice differed drastically from his usual, confidence-filled tone. Now his voice was nothing but a mutter, a humble whisper whose words utter no lies, no deciets, no false emotion.

“I love you too, Mettaton.”


End file.
